Elves Do It Better

Warnings: Explicit content, discussion of suicide and suicidal tendencies, violent scenes and physical injury

Disclaimer: I own nothing connected with either LotR or Twilight. They belong entirely to their respective owners.

A/N: Edited and re-posted by popular demand. I've edited out everything to do with the Cullens or the larger plot arc, since that was never going to be finished. The Bella/Haldir romance is still largely intact. I've also switched everything to 3rd person POV because I really hated writing in 3rd person. Enjoy.

All Bella could feel was Edward's cold lips on her forehead. His words echoed in her head, spreading insidiously like poison in her veins.

'He didn't want me with him. He didn't want me…'

She was never good enough for him. 'Not strong enough, not beautiful enough…'

And now he was leaving her, because Jasper's attack on her eighteenth birthday had opened his eyes to the dangers of having her around. Her, Bella, an eternal danger magnet.

The forest was silent around them, as she felt as if a hole had been punched through her chest, taking away her heart, as her breathing became shallower and shallower. She closed her eyes, feeling his hand on the back of her neck, his hard lips on her skin, cold and fragrant. 'Edward, please don't…please…'

She opened her eyes and saw him gone, the forest seeming to come back to life with his absence. She felt her heart convulse in agony, the last few shards of it shattered irreparably forever. Bella gasped, and ran forward, her soul crying out in agony. She couldn't lose him.

She knew it was stupid, but she couldn't fight it. It was too strong, the compulsion to run after him, to plunge deeper into the forest as recklessly as he'd just cautioned her not to.

"No, Edward!" Bella cried out, as she fought not to slip or trip on the boggy ground, ducking leafy branches and skirting around mossy boulders. She knew she could not catch him, and very soon she was not even running for that. She was just running. Running to escape, running to flee the poison in her blood, the hole where her heart had once beaten.

Fiery agony raced through her limbs, through her very cells, and she wanted to collapse. She didn't want to live, she wanted to leave this world and everything in it behind. If she couldn't have Edward, if she couldn't have her only reason for existence, she had nothing worth living for. But he had made her promise not to do anything reckless, to stay alive for Charlie. But why should she? Bella was broken, with no hope of being fixed.

At last Bella reached a clearing, and tripped in the undergrowth, sprawling on the ground. She felt only a throbbing ache at the base of her skull, as a moment later she as if she was falling before blackness claimed her vision and she knew nothing more.

There were voices singing in her head, strange, ethereally beautiful voices. She could listen to them all day. They soothed the agony inside her, as memory trickled back unwillingly and she remembered Edward, and his pale beauty when he told her he didn't want her. She wasn't good enough.

'Hush, child. Think no more of that…'

Bella fought to open her eyes, and looked out onto bright light and nothing more. She thought she two figures but they were indistinct and blurry to her stinging eyes. She tried to speak.

'No! Do not speak yet. You are very weak, but we will heal your injuries…'

A beautiful, loving voice spoke close to her ear, and she thought it was female. It reminded her of Esme, but a thousand times lovelier and sweeter, like the music of a million silver bells ringing their sweet tones in her ear.

'…but only you may heal the rest. You have a long journey ahead of you, Isabella Swan, and a hard choice to make at the end of it. Only you can decide your fate. Only you…'

This one was unmistakeably male, and his voice resonated within Bella's very soul.

'W-who are you?' she choked out, hoarsely. Ringing laughter reached her ears.

'She is a strong one. A soul made of fire, and a heart of gold…' the male voice continued. He sounded amused.

'Rest now, and seek healing in sleep. We will watch over you, Alphwen…' the female whispered soothingly.

The voices faded away, with only that name ringing in her ears. Alphwen…

What did it mean? It sounded beautiful, and the words were like honey over silk, smooth and musical. But she found herself drifting off to sleep, her mind falling down into darkness…

The script beneath his fingers became blurred as a vision overtook his eyes, and yet he still saw the page upon which he wrote. Long had Elrond Peredhil, son of Earendil and Lord of Imladris, been proficient in foresight, but this vision seemed to come from Manwe himself, the King of all.

Quickly he stood from his work, his robes gently brushing the floor as he strode from his study. "Arwen, Glorfindel," he called softly, yet his voice carried effortlessly across the balcony, as he stepped out onto the main terrace of his home.

His daughter and their most trusted adviser hurried towards him, where he stood in the starlight, his daughter's luminous face beautiful in the light of Earendil. 'Father, grant the girl your protection tonight, and guide my daughter to her…'

Elrond's vision troubled him greatly. It was of a young girl, a mortal and yet not quite so. She was human, but it seemed, she held the choice of the Peredhel, or so he sensed. She may choose immortality or mortality, if it was her will. She had the protection of the Valar themselves.

"Adar, what is it?" Arwen asked, still clothed in her travelling gear of dark green, her long hair trailing like shadow down her back.

"I have been gifted with a vision from the Valar," he replied gravely, and watched as grave expression formed on Glorfindel's face. "Near here, you shall find a young woman, a mortal. She is in need of our aid. Bring her here safely."

"Who is she?" Glorfindel asked, curiosity rampant on his handsome face. His expression was only mirrored by Arwen's.

"I know not. I only heard the name of Alphwen. She is in need of healing, but her fate is undecided," Elrond replied, as Glorfindel nodded in understanding. "Her soul is shattered. Bring her here."

"We shall find her, Adar," Arwen vowed resolutely, before she and Glorfindel turned and hurried away to begin the search. Elrond sighed as he turned back to the terrace, leaning on the carved wood of the balcony railing. He wished he could send out more to aid their search, but alas, his sons were on their way home from Lothlorien, bringing their grandmother with them, and he could only spare so many scouts from the patrols around Imladris.

Elrond prayed to the Valar, prayed for the safe return of his daughter and Glorfindel, and the arrival of their new charge, this mysterious young woman. He knew not what he could do for her, but he would heal what he could. Maybe only she could truly heal whatever was broken within her.

These were dark times, as the Shadow moved in the East, but he could not turn away one sent by the Valar, by Manwe and Elbereth themselves. He stood in the starlight, listening to the cool rush of the waterfalls and the fountains of Imladris, as he awaited the arrival of the young woman. Of this strange Alphwen…

Arwen mounted Asfaloth, nodding a tacit agreement with Glorfindel that she would search to the north, and he to the south. Between them, they would find this young woman. The elleth knew not why Adar wanted her, but she would find her. To have been sent by the Valar…

She shook her proud head, as she spoke to Asfaloth. "Noro lim, Asfaloth! Noro lim!"

Her powerful mount snorted in anticipation before they bounded away from Imladris at a gallop.

Arwen offered a silent prayer to Elbereth and Earendil that night, to guide her in her search.

Asfaloth guided Arwen surely through the forest, the trunks of the trees flashing past in the grey night, like some statues of old. She could sense their whisperings in her mind, and she listened intently. They spoke of a fallen woman, a child by the standards of the Eldar, lying in a glade not far away.

She turned Asfaloth towards it, and soon reached it. She slowed his pace, patting his silver neck as she dismounted and rushed to the woman's side.

Arwen soon amended her thoughts. She was but a girl.

She possessed long brown hair which she could see was rich in colour, richer even than that of an elf's, but her face was pale and shrunken as in with great despair. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and she breathed but faintly. The elleth rushed to her side, and placed her hand on her forehead. She was no great healer, but she knew enough to ease her pain.

But the wellspring of despair and pain that opened up to her made her gasp and recoil in horror, as she stared down at the young mortal. How could any mortal feel that and live? How could they not be crushed by the weight of that despair?

Arwen shuddered, and looked down upon her, wondering what had happened to her and why the Valar had sent her to them. She guessed it to be a woeful tale.

"Lady Arwen…?!" she heard Lord Glorfindel cry softly.

"Here, Glorfindel," she replied, equally as soft, and soon she felt his presence draw near. He bent over their charge, with a gentle frown on his brow.

"What has happened to her?" he pondered, gently stroking her hair back from her head.

"Some great hurt has been done to her. We must take her to my father," she breathed, as Glorfindel lifted her into his arms effortlessly. For the first time, they noticed her raiment.

It was odd, made of materials neither had ever seen before.

She wore what appeared to be sturdy boots, but with odd colourings on the laces and panels. Her trousers were too loose to be elven leggings, yet they were not the same as either had ever seen on mortals. They were made of some rough, blue material. Her torso was covered by a dark blouse, with horizontal stripes of a dark grey covered by a loose coat in a shade of orange. It looked warm, yet when Arwen touched the mortal's face, her skin was cold. She was slender, and had an ethereal look about her. Her long waves of brown hair fell past Glorfindel's arm in ringlets, while her skin was as pale and flawless as a swan's wing.

Alphwen…Swan maiden…

'An apt name,' Arwen mused privately as Glorfindel wrapped her in his cloak, and mounted his horse.

Suddenly she stirred, and her eyes opened to reveal deep pools of the darkest brown. They were like twin polished gems, with streaks of gold and amber in their infinite depths. "W-where am I?" she asked, and although she spoke with a strange accent, they recognised the Common Tongue.

"You are safe, young one," Arwen breathed, smiling up at her as she weakly raised her head. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Elven Lord and Lady, before she tried to sit up.

"No, must g-get home…" she trailed off, and Arwen sensed her strength wane.

"Glorfindel…" she murmured warningly, and he nodded.

"Rest, young one. You are safe now," he whispered, laying an enchantment over her as she slumped into his arms. The enchanted sleep would heal her, or so Glorfindel hoped. He looked down on the Lady Arwen, the starlight glinting off his golden hair.

"Go, I will follow," Arwen told him, and he inclined his head while she turned to mount Asfaloth. Something, perhaps the Valar themselves, told her if their new charge did not reach Adar soon, she would fade quickly.

The elleth prayed for her, as she remembered the void of despair and pain within her soul, as she began the ride home, Glorfindel and their charge naught but a grey shadow in the distance, flitting between the trees.